


I Think I'll Stay Here

by rose_indigo_and_tom



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Late Night Conversations, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_indigo_and_tom/pseuds/rose_indigo_and_tom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s late, like four am late, and it’s December in Massachusetts so it’s cold. Yet somehow Shitty finds himself sitting out on the roof of the Haus smoking a cigarette in only jeans and a sweatshirt (even he has limits on nudity, because hypothermia isn’t on his bucket list). </p>
<p>OR that one time Jack and Shitty kissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I'll Stay Here

**Author's Note:**

> So, there have been a lot of fics that I’ve read that referenced that one time that Jack and Shitty hooked up or kissed, and how they learned that it wasn’t for them, so I decided to write that fic. This is not to say I ship Jack/Shitty (I think they’re great and adorable friends and that’s all), but rather that I think this could be an interesting prospect to explore.
> 
> This is my first foray back into fanfic after a 4+ year hiatus, so hopefully this doesn’t come across as too out of character or bad. It’s also unbeta’d, so there might be some mistakes!
> 
> (Title from Until I am Whole by The Mountain Goats)

It’s late, like four am late, and it’s December in Massachusetts so it’s cold. Yet somehow Shitty finds himself sitting out on the roof of the Haus smoking a cigarette in only jeans and a sweatshirt (even he has limits on nudity, because hypothermia isn’t on his bucket list). Cigarettes aren’t his usual vice, but every once in a while he’ll have one, and right now he wants to keep his mind clear so he can contemplate studying for finals tomorrow. In the morning. In five hours. Whatever. 

He looks down onto the street, at the rows of houses with darkened windows and the occasional dim glow shining out of a room. The street lamps cast a yellowy light over everything, in a sleepy, nostalgic sort of way that feels far warmer than the temperature. It’s late and he’s alone out here, and he’s feeling contemplative, the way late nights can do to you. It’s almost finals week, and maybe it’s just that sophomore slump people are always talking about, but he hasn’t felt this low in a while, and watching the wind blow softly through the trees, smoking his cigarette, he allows himself to just be alone. 

He hears a tapping on the window behind him, and turns to see who it is, startled out of his thoughts by the realization that someone else is up at this ungodly hour. It’s Jack, his hair rumpled like he’s been sleeping, but looking completely awake. Shitty smiles and raises his eyebrows, and Jack smiles back weakly. He opens the window and says, in a quiet sort of voice “Shitty. Do you have any idea what time it is?” and Shitty doesn’t say anything, just looks at him and takes another drag on the cigarette. 

Jack turns away then, and Shitty thinks he’s going to leave, but instead he goes into his room and comes back out a minute later, his arms laden with blankets. He opens the window wider and pushes them out onto the roof before following himself, now dressed more warmly. He wraps one blanket around his shoulders, and then holds one out to Shitty, who puts his cigarette out against the shingles before taking it.They lay down a blanket on the roof and put the others around them, creating a sort of nest that is, if not actively warm, at least warmer than the surrounding air. They have to be close to each other to make it work, but Shitty puts an arm around Jack to pull him close into his chest, and the blankets manage to cover both of them.

Once they’re situated, Shitty waits for Jack to say something, because he’s not particularly in the mood to talk, but knows Jack well enough to know he’ll speak up eventually about whatever has him out here at four in the morning. 

Sure enough, after a minute or so, Jack takes a breath and says “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been laying there for hours trying but I just couldn’t, and then I saw you out here and realized I didn’t want to be alone.” He turns his face towards Shitty’s sweatshirt and breathes in the scent of Old Spice and laundry detergent and lingering cigarette smoke, feeling not particularly up to talking either, but wanting to express how glad he is not to be alone in bed, tossing and turning, right now. Shitty presses his face down into Jack’s hair for a moment in acknowledgement of what he’s said and then says “I feel that, man. You know I’m here for you, whenever.” Jack replies with a little hum of agreement, and they lie there for a while, wrapped up in a nest of blankets and arms, looking at the stars and the street and each other. 

After another few minutes, Shitty brings up something lighthearted and meaningless, the hockey practice they’d had the day before, and they discuss it slowly, almost in whispers, talking less because the subject is interesting or important and more because the sound of each other’s voices is comforting. When that topic is exhausted, they touch on a few others, each sentence taking longer to finish, until they’ve drifted almost into silence again. When Shitty finally falls quiet, his eyes blink down to Jack’s, so near his own, and he considers their blueness, lost in thoughts again. Jack watches Shitty watching him, sees as his gaze falls from eyes to lips. It might seem odd, yet after over an hour spent with their faces less than six inches apart, it is the most natural thing in the world for Jack to lean in and brush his lips against Shitty’s. 

It’s a quick kiss, chaste and simple, and when he pulls back he fears what he might see in his friend’s eyes. But instead Shitty smiles and says “Want to try that again?” and so they do. Sparks don’t fly, it’s hardly exciting, but their lips are warm together as their breath clouds the air, and it’s sort of nice. They break apart again after a minute or so, and the situation that had seemed so solemn five minute before is suddenly much lighter. What a thing for them to do! Shitty laughs, not the quiet little chuckle he’d been making earlier, but a real laugh that shakes their blanket bundle and sets Jack off as well. If you ask them why it’s so funny, neither would have a good answer, but in the moment it’s hilarious, and they laugh until they realize they should stop short of waking anyone up. 

Shitty pulls Jack against his chest again and says “I don’t regret that at all, but I think maybe we won’t do it again?” and feels Jack nod in affirmation. They lay there like that for a few more minutes before they really start to feel the cold set into their bones, like the wind was waiting for something to happen, and now it has, and it’s telling them it’s time to go to bed. They stand up, gathering the blankets around themselves, and climb back through the window, feeling the warm air envelop them as soon as they’re inside. They hug goodbye outside Jack’s room, a long hug full of the things they haven’t said, things like “Thank you for being here” and “This was what I needed” and “I love you.” And then Jack turns and goes into his room, once again loaded down with blankets. 

They go to bed content and are able to fall asleep fairly quickly, grabbing what little time they have left before nine am classes and breakfast and practice call them back from that shared space in the middle of the night. They don’t speak of it again, not out of shame or regret, but rather out of the knowledge that while they are best friends and nothing else, that night on the roof was special and they don’t need the ceaseless chirping they’d certainly get if the team ever found out about it.


End file.
